Sunday, February 24, 2013

Anarchy for Sale: Punk as Rebellion in a Coroporate Landscape

* I wrote this several years ago for an Advanced Research Writing class I took at UC Irvine..there is ALOT I want to edit/update/etc and there is ALOT of stuff that needs better references/sources/etc I know. And there's not really a well-defined thesis. But here it is.

Anarchy for Sale: Punk as Rebellion in a Corporate Landscape

In the late 1970s, "punk rock" gained popularity in the American and British music scenes, recalling a rougher version of the basic rock-n-roll formula, as antithesis to the slickly-produced arena rock and disco popular at the time. Although bands and fans take many different approaches at defining what "punk" is to them, rebellion and nonconformity are the most recognizable and enduring tenets of the subculture's ideological emphasis (O'Hara 38). Despite the fierce declarations of supposed unwillingness to conform to society's standards, there is a strong tendency in the punk movement to assume similar political stances, fashion statements, musical inclinations, and modes of identifying themselves. Having recognized this, music conglomerates as well as surf and skate manufacturers have married the "punk" sound and look to their products, and bands with larger followings usually find themselves delivering anti-authoritarian, non-conformist messages in front of cell phone banner ads on ten foot stages to a crowd of similar-looking white teenage males.
Cultural semiotician Dick Hebdige asserted in his landmark work Subculture: The Meaning of Style that the reason for the stylistic imperatives surrounding underground cultures like punk is "the communication of a significant difference," and paradoxically, "the parallel communication of a group identity" (Hebdige 102); non-conformity in regards to mainstream society is accompanied by adherence to an alternative set of cultural understandings. Although much of the style surrounding punk is "parodying the alienation" of modern life, a "visible…group identity" (Hebdige 6), a facet of the scene that seems to contradict its focus on alienation, ultimately results as one of the lasting tenets of the subculture. The paradoxes in punk run so thick that many of the most important figures in its history have been slandered for their very success, and the "sell-out" becomes the defining contradiction in the music's terribly self-negating existence.
The ambiguous central idea that punk is supposed to somehow embody – rebellion – becomes obfuscated by the rampant similarity in dress, style, and beliefs that many of its proponents subscribe to, as well as the tendency of the "group identity" aspect to establish the movement's adherents into target groups for major corporate advertisers.
I. Packaging Punk
The early years of punk hinged on rebellion against the styles popular at the time, and rather than emphasizing personal creativity, it was often a blatant throwback to bubblegum pop from the 1950s (i.e. The Ramones) or early-1960s rock n roll (i.e. The Damned). These stylistic choices by such influential artists can be read as a form of rebellion against the increasingly bourgeois sound of the mid-1970s, but they were also a way to enter a market familiar with such sounds already. Many of the New York proto-punks made no secret of their intentions for commercial success; Elektra Records scout Danny Fields was actually an integral part in the formation and success of many early bands like the Stooges and the Modern Lovers (McNeil 414). Similarly, the Sex Pistols and the Clash were both "formed" by independent entrepreneurs Malcolm McLaren and Bernie Rhodes, respectively (Rebalus 1). The idea of marketing this music successfully went hand in hand with making a supposedly rebellious artistic statement for many of punk's pioneers.
The style of The Stooges catered to an audience that Bread just couldn't: Elektra Records was able to successfully market both groups, however, using different "personality profiles" as defined by James B Twitchell in his article "What We Are to Advertisers" (Twitchell 3). Punks can be seen as "experiencers" – people who are willing to put a large portion of their time and money towards experiencing culture and entertainment. In this way, an attendee of a Stooges concert is doing the same thing as a person at a Bread concert, spending their money on a particular variation of the same entertainment product. Successful marketing of punk's raw feel against the safe sounds of folk-rock or the flamboyant sounds of disco and arena-rock created a whole new brand with which to sell Elektra vinyl.
This commoditization of punk culture has had the effect of making at least two generations of angst-filled American teens believe that "punk" is the brand of music for them. Their identity is best described by listing bands, record labels, magazines, and clothing companies they most support, a phenomenon also noted by Nell Bernstein in her article "Goin' Gangsta, Choosin' Cholita" (Bernstein 2). A patch on the back of your sweatshirt comes to represent an entire facet of your being, that part of you that doesn't conform to the style that the Gap and Old Navy are selling you – it conforms to the style that MTV and Hot Topic have been selling you. Much of the subculture Americans consume is pre-handled by major media sources, which for most is their primary source for organizing the cultural messages surrounding them (Hebdige 7). "MTV helped turn pop culture into some big marketing device," (Spitz 275) and what's great about this particular marketing device, from the eyes of the advertiser, is although there are generational gaps in the type of punk being sold, it's the kind of device that endures past the fad's initial blast. Although legendary bass player Mike Watt disagrees that punk is merely a trend, the very fact that he takes it to be more – to be a "state of mind" – allows him to pose the rhetorical every advertiser wants to hear: "how can it go out of fashion?" (Spitz 283)
It's a fashion that has come to sell quite well, as proven by Hot Topic, a store that has grown to have more than 650 stores in malls across America since 1988. The store's official website claims that "Hot Topic found a niche, and its name was music-related accessories" (About HT). Today the store is dubbed "the loudest store in the mall" (About HT) and fills the same consumer void that Susan Willis claims the "Villain Store" at Disney theme parks does. Just as Disney World is a "private state" that is made to public use, the mall is similarly a money-driven environment where "there is no possibility of an anti-consumption" (Willis 6). Gearing their merchandise to the wayward sensibilities of rock enthusiasts ensures that Hot Topic capitalizes on the fashions of rebellion.
The Vans Warped Tour is another example of the extent to which punk culture has become wedded with corporate interest since its initial popularity. This package tour usually brings more than a hundred bands together in an exhaustive smorgasbord day-festival of "non-conformity", all sponsored by Vans, Cingular Wireless, MySpace, and Major League Baseball. Oh, and don't forget Rockstar Energy Drink, the real non-follower's caffeine fix. Withstanding 13 summers of continuous growth, the Warped Tour is now the longest-running music festival tour in the world (Sutherland 1) and serves as a testament to the lasting ability of punk style as a marketing tool. The fact that punk is used as much more than an outlet for "juvenile rebellion" (Powers 1) is made starkly clear by the professionalism of the tour's management and the chattel-like way the actual musical talent is treated: bands on the Warped Tour play on a rotating line-up of 30-minute sets, performances often blurring together. The only constant headliner for these events is the banner advertisement streaming above the bands.
These examples of corporate-backed consumption of punk relate to the way people buying into this look are often referred to. Despite the emphasis on rebellion and individuality that many punk lyrics take on, there is also a communitarian aspect to the punk scene. One of the most-covered songs in the punk lexicon is Sham 69's "If The Kids Are United," a song about the need for vaguely political solidarity amongst punkers. While "they can lie to my face" – "they" being the state, the church, the corporations, etc. – the consumer of this ever-popular track can be assured that when you're amongst other punks, "you are him, and he is you" (Sham 69). The world of the powerful is to be shunned but a close, even transitive, connection with others in your lot is to be encouraged. An assumption is made that while it's not okay to conform to mainstream society, it is favorable – in fact necessary – to conform to the standards of punk society, although those standards, as will soon be described, are somewhat ambiguous if not downright contradictory.
This fascination with "the kids" creates an illusion of belonging, as well as the illusion of the scene being a "grass-roots movement powered by adventurous young people" (Powers 1). Companies that mass-produce the look and sound of punk are therefore able to retain a façade of cultural legitimacy, their products taking on the sheen of popular creation. The fact of the matter is, however, that much in the punk world is manufactured by large corporations that do not take into account the workings of the underground scene so much as they decide which aspects of said underground will be the most easily marketed and sold. (Powers 1) "The kids," then, are not necessarily integral to the creation process, only the consumption process; they are Hebdige's "community of undifferentiated Teenage Consumers" (Hebdige 2).
II: Paradox in the Product
Despite the fact that most every kid who gets into punk rock is exposed to it through mainstream media by high-level corporate institutions, this style is not one that comes without strings. Most punk groups carry with them strong sociopolitical outlooks and ways of life that can influence impressionable minds in ways that most other music styles do not. Few acts, however, are able to provide meaningful reasoning behind the ideologies that have become so deeply ingrained in their cultural personalities. Within the realm of punk there are examples of extreme leftist ideology (i.e. Propagandhi's cries against homophobia and animal abuse) as well as extremely conservative ideology (Skrewdriver' racist and nationalist anthems), and on either side it's hard to get the story straight. Politics are important to punks, but to many they become so confused as to undermine the music's use as effective mechanisms for change.
Anarchism, in particular, was injected into the punk subconscious early on as a philosophical legitimization of one's rebellion against all existing systems in the capitalist society; it has become, however, a way for bands and image makers to cash in on the vaguely anti-authoritarian political beliefs of ignorant teens. British band Crass was probably the first and definitely the most influential band to incorporate overtly anarchist politics in their lyrics, basing their ideas on the works of such political philosophers as Goldman, Kropotkin, and Proudhon (O'Hara 83). They imagined their music "as symbolic forms of resistance," embodying a harsh and focused version of the "generally submerged dissent" (Hebdige 6) permeating society at large. Before too long, however, the word 'anarchism' – which entitles taking your life into your own hands and taking responsibility for the world around you so a government based on force is rendered unnecessary – was popularized by less intellectually-inclined groups, and got mixed up with traditional youthful propensities for disorder.
This distortion of what it means to subscribe to 'anarchistic' values was due in part to both gross misunderstanding amongst listeners and negative media misrepresentation. "The refusal or inability to study what they were so emphatically endorsing" (O'Hara 96) led to ambiguous, confused, and often sectarian politics that ultimately undermined the very purpose of the culture and community that philosophical anarchism so ardently cries for (Honderich 45). Furthermore, much media representation - notably Penelope Spheeris' 1981 documentary "The Decline of the Western Civilization" – fostered an image of punk that perpetuated the nihilistic, destructive tendencies that anarchism so decries (Spitz 262). Acts of random violence or destruction – 'chaos' confused for 'anarchy' – directly contradict the pragmatic pacifism of most anarchist literature.
Negative portrayal of underground punk in the early 1980s depicted the movement as being an extremely violent form of quasi-gang criminality (Blush 39), which tarnished its political merit in the minds of everyday America as much as it invited real violent criminals to appropriate the scene (O'Hara 96). Anarchism's peaceful, communitarian message became bastardized into a destructive, every-man-for-himself debacle because of its association with punk, much to the dismay of innovators like Crass and others who had spent time learning about the real movement and trying to spread this knowledge positively through the underground community. The very essence of the political stance was lost in the confusion of its proliferation.
A similar loss of original purpose can be witnessed in the straight edge community. "Straight edge" is a term coined by Minor Threat vocalist Ian MacKaye in the early 1980s to refer to his own choice of lifestyle, which involved abstinence from alcohol, tobacco, drugs, and promiscuous sex (Lahickey 1). It was meant to be a positive form of rebellion, a way of "rebelling against the traditional forms of rebellion" (Lahickey 9). This sub-subculture, which was hailed as one of the most positive things to emerge out of punk in the late 1980s, quickly morphed into one of the most rigid, intolerant, and sheepish brands of youth "rebellion" in American society (McKaye 9).
Although the musical inclinations of its participants resembled and relied on punk aesthetic, the value systems present in the straight edge community were often at odds with the sound they mimicked. Instead of focusing on their own lives and trying to spread positivity through their communities, many straight-edgers from the late 80s until today have adopted a "purer-than-thou" attitude that breeds violence and discrimination against elements of society deemed to be impure (Lahickey 3). It's as though this subculture has "reiterated in a heightened or distorted form" (Hebdige 4) many of the classic American values it vaguely rejects.
This ideology has stretched beyond merely not doing drugs to encompass even more Puritanical belief systems, such as awkwardly hateful vegetarianism and vehement homophobia (McKaye 9). This latter element, homophobia, is the most directly contradictory to punk's roots, considering that many early punks, from Dee Dee Ramone to Lou Reed to Wayne/Jayne County, were openly bisexual or homosexual, even to the point of being male prostitutes (McNeil 354). Furthermore, the idea of "rebellion" is almost entirely lost on these new generations of straight-edgers, who not only mimic the terminology and lyrical tendencies of earlier bands, but oftentimes even use pre-existing logos and designs to remind listeners that 'this band is a follower of the straight edge lifestyle' (Lahickey 2). The group identity aspect to punk that Hebdige discusses (Hebdige 102) is absolutely essential to this particular group of counter-culturalists, undermining its reliability as a venue for individual expression and resistance.
Skinhead culture also presents a strange dilemma when considering punk as a form of rebellion. Whereas anarchist punk presents an example of extreme leftist politics in punk rock, skinhead punk provides solace for all the right-wingers in the audience. This oft-blamed subculture emerged in Britain late in the 70s as a conservative reaction against free-loving hippies. When punk got popular, skinhead culture experienced a revamping as the working class worked to rebel against "the art students that had overrun the punk scene" ("Skin History" 1). Skinheads did this at a time, also, when "such an affirmation of…working-class life was considered inappropriate" (Hebdige 5); they battled the changes occurring in mainstream society by attacking the liberal ideals of their countercultural neighbors.
Contrary to later trends in the subculture that have come to characterize the movement, early skinhead culture was multiracial and relied heavily on island music like reggae and ska to define itself artistically. This was due in part to an influx of Jamaican immigrants to the British working class in the late 1960s, who brought with them rudeboy stylings (Steven 1). Their fashion often consists of standard working-class gear like boots and suspenders (Steven 1), further signifying their connection with the lower strata of society and against the media-and-record label-driven punk and new wave movements. Their emphasis
Although skinheads see themselves, as straight edgers often do, as rebelling against the rebellion fashionable at the time, skinhead ideology - racist or not - is always nationalistic and nearly always pro-government, even to the point of blatant fascism (Shreck 1). Despite efforts from groups like SkinHeads Against Racial Prejudice (SHARP), skinheads with such views will readily admit that they are in the minority within their own scene (Shreck 1). Most skinheads hold very conservative viewpoints and reject the socialist or anarchistic viewpoints that other sects of punk adhere to.
In this way, they reject the rebellion that other punk groups espouse. One of the classic skinhead pastimes, besides getting drunk of course, is a classic pastime for a large part of mainstream British society as well: going to football (Americans read: soccer) games (Clarke 5). This acceptance of common leisure is almost a central tenet of skinhead culture, as are traditional ethics such as regional pride, respect for work ethic, and patriarchal family values. Skinheads, in many ways, detest the counter-culture far more than they do traditional culture, and they vent their frustrations with Thatcherian economic policy and neoliberalism by defensively posturing as sacraments of the true society.
III: Success is Not an Option
The huge success of the Sex Pistols in 1977 and 1978 sent a shockwave through white America, and bands sprouted up all over the country. Many bands, like hardcore pioneers Black Flag and Minor Threat, decided that punk wasn't really "rebellious" if it's being sold by the same labels that were at the time selling Lionel Richie or Cyndie Lauper, and opted to take a "do-it-yourself" approach to recording, promoting, and touring (Azerrad 11). This was a reaction to the startling propensity of the first wave punks like the Talking Heads and the Go-Go's to agree to mainstream promotion of their music that compromised their ability for artistic originality and rebellion (McNeil 457, Spitz 273). Working with major music outlets and labels not only undermined the anti-authoritarian values that many artists held but also made this subculture that so venerates rejection of society a mere listing in the catalog of corporate America's culture machine.
As the DIY ethic took hold in local, "underground" communities, it became increasingly taboo for bands to make the leap into the upper echelons of the musical market. When bands like Husker Du and Green Day did eventually make the leap to major labels, they were ostracized from the underground community as "sell-outs," a derogatory term in punk referring to people who play music for money (Theis 1). While Green Day was able to flourish in the mainstream market despite being rejected by the underground community, Husker Du's career was ruined when mainstream audiences failed to take notice because they were no longer accepted as honest punks by DIY purists (Azerrad 334). The artistic merit of the music became a secondary issue, and many punks wrote the band off without actually hearing the albums in question simply because scene-makers told them they were written by sell-outs. The DIY ethic that works as a rebellion against commodification, in this case, led to blind rejection of a band that was both musically and lyrically inventive.
Indie stalwarts The Replacements, however, were content to take the Pistols route in being packaged by a professional – in this case an FM radio DJ – and letting others call the shots in their supposed expressions of "individuality" (Azerrad 199). They present an interesting case of what it means to "sell out" because they are still hailed as a major band in the 'underground' scene. A more telling example of what it means to "sell out", however, lies in one of the most venerated and influential artists in punk's nearly-40-year-old history: The Clash.
The Clash were formed by Bernie Rhodes in mid-1970s England (Rebalus 1). They became known as an antithesis to the Sex Pistols' nihilism because they presented ideas of struggle, rather than destructive apathy, regarding the political structure. Their first album was seen as "an act of political resistance" (Frenre-Jones 1), featuring songs about rioting and American imperialism. Their status as socialist champions preceded them for a time, but their "moral authority" (Frenre-Jones 1) was put into question as the band became more and more popular.
Their very deal with CBS Records, a major recording industry presence at the time, became suspect in the eyes of leftist stalwarts like their contemporaries Crass. Anthems like "Clampdown," which speaks of the cunning of old workers in a factory and decries the need for workaday economies (Clash 1), seem less reputable when it becomes known that their records are being made by factory workers that CBS hires. The final nail in the coffin for punk purists was the release of 1983's "Combat Rock" LP, which featured slickly produced new-wave songs that eventually went into heavy rotation on MTV; this was coupled with an opening slot on the world arena tour for rock dinosaurs The Who (Rebalus 3). Such blatant capitalization of their political austere may have offended those working on the underground circuit, but they became the epitome of rebellious imagery for millions of Teenage Consumers in the 1980s.
It is somewhat ironic that bands trying to inject their music with progressive politics are often "less easily forgiven when they falter" (Rebalus 3). While The Replacements did not have any social agenda to forward upon its audience and therefore did not face the moral backlash of its initial following (Azerrad 202), The Clash were a clearly making fierce statements about the sociopolitical state of affairs in Great Britain. This seriousness of subject matter made their critics all the harsher when judging their status as "sell outs." As popularly defined, a sell out is one who "replaces creative expression as the primary purpose for making music" (Theis 1) with the pursuit of money and commercial success. The Clash evidenced such tendencies in their albums "Sandinista" and "Combat Rock," both of which were produced to be more suitable for the American buying public. Both records also featured notably less direct political statements as well, indicating not only an artistic shift but an ideological compromise as well.
Despite such criticisms, The Clash did not fail to become one of the most venerated groups in the genre and are still generally looked upon as quasi-revolutionaries by kids in the scene. Although the success of the band relies on political anger, such success ends up compromising their supposed values; this can be forgiven, however, seeing as that most consumers of punk are content with mall-shopping and arena-moshing anyway. Anti-authoritarian messages, then, are often more of a symbolic tool for establishing group identity based on "the communication of a significant difference" (Hebdige 102) than they are sincere political statements.
- - -
Punk rock and the corporate media share a paradoxical relationship: punk rock often bites the hand that feeds it in its attack of mainstream society, but the major corporations that manufacture the accessories of rebellion are in effect selling the idea that they themselves are bad, fostering anti-authoritarianism in a youth that buys their products. Despite the clever promotion that has made the punk style a major niche in today's music and fashion markets, the style brings with it subversive ways of thinking that leave deeper welts on a consumer's values system than do other stylistic choices. The sociopolitical stances that bands take often contribute heavily to their overall personas, but the affiliations amongst people in the general punk circuit are so varied as to obfuscate any sense of actual uprising or potential for change. Core beliefs of supposed "movements" like anarchism and straight edge can be lost as the philosophies trickle down to the most inarticulate or aggressive individuals in the group. In this subculture where group identities defined by significant difference flourish, differences within the group itself come to dominate its general discourse.


Works Cited
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Andersen, Mark and Mark Jenkins. Dance of Days: Two Decades of Punk in the Nation's Capital. New York: Akashic, 2003.
Azerrad, Michael. Our Band Could Be Your Life: Scenes From the American Indie Underground 1981-1991. New York: Little, Brown, and Company 2001
Bernstein, Nell. "Goin' Gangsta, Choosin' Cholita." Signs of Life in the USA: Readings on Popular Culture for Writers. Eds. Sonia Maasik and Jack Solomon. 5th ed. New York: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2006.
Blush, Stephen. American Hardcore: A Tribal History. Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001.
Clarke, John. Football Hooliganism and the Skinheads. Birmingham: University of Birmingham Press, 1973.
Clash, The. "Clampdown." London Calling. 1979 CBS Records.
               Frere-Jones, Sasha. "1979." The New Yorker Online. November 1, 2004.
http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2004/11/01/041101crmu_music
Hebdige, Dick. "The Function of Subculture." The Cultural Studies Reader. Ed. Simon During. 2nd ed. New York: Routledge, 1999.
               Honderich, Ted (ed.). The Oxford Companion to Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995.
Lahickey, Beth. "Intro." All Ages: Reflections on Straight Edge. Ed. Beth Lahickey. Huntington Beach: Revelation Books, 1997.
McKaye, Ian "Ch.7" All Ages: Reflections on Straight Edge. Ed. Beth Lahickey. Huntington Beach: Revelation Books, 1997.
McNeil, Legs and Gillian Andersen, eds. Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk. New York: Penguin Books 1996.
O'Hara, Craig. The Philosophy of Punk: More Than Noise! San Francisco: AK Press 1999.
Powers, Ann. "Pop Review: Rebellious Punkers Going Corporate." The New York Times. June 5 2008.
Rebalus, John S. "The Only Reissue That Matters." Checkout.com. http://www.johnsrebalus.com/Clash.html. May 21 2008.
Schreck, Carl. "Skinhead Vs. Skinhead in Anti-Racist Fight." The Moscow Times. March 31, 2004. http://www.rickross.com/reference/skinheads/skinheads35.html.
Sham 69. "If The Kids Are United." 1979 Polydor Records.
"Skin History." http://www.io.com/~qsb/words/faq/skin.html. May 26 2008.
Spitz, Marc and Brendan Mullen, eds. We Got the Neutron Bomb: The Untold Story of LA Punk. New York: ThreeRiver Press, 2001.
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Twitchell, James B. "What We Are to Advertisers." Signs of Life in the USA: Readings on Popular Culture for Writers. Eds. Sonia Maasik and Jack Solomon. 5th ed. New York: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2006.
Willis, Susan. "Disney World: Public Use/Private State." Signs of Life in the USA: Readings on Popular Culture for Writers. Eds. Sonia Maasik and Jack Solomon. 5th ed. New York: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2006

SHOW MINI-REVIEW: Fever Dreams/The Coltranes/Globe & Beast/Apathean/Ezra/Hands That Mold

This was a real cool show but I just knew from the outset that I didn't want to write a full-length review. So I just took a couple pics and videotaped 2 songs in full by Ezra from what turned out to be their final set...Here are some general notes on how the show went.

- I watched the movie "Memento" for the first time before I left the Heath house for the show. It was okay, I thought it was gonna be way doper. Movies are lame.
- The homeboy Dakota gave me a brown Hawaiian shirt with fish all over it and I'm gonna wear this shit on the regular.
- Zack and Dustin were both scamming on girls wayyy too young for them, those scandalous ne'erdowells
- Memento Mori announced at the beginning of their set that they were changing their name to Hands That Mold (I talked to the guitarist afterwards and that is indeed because of the Dystopia song)....they were cool, heavy but a bit repetitive and the PA kept going out on the vocals.
- Ezra played next and they were REALLY FUCKING GOOD. The drummer and guitarist in particular, they were just so fucking fast yet spot-on. It was odd, they were a hardcore band but the first band that comes to mind when I want to compare them to something is Wolves In The Throne Room. Unfortunately I found out upon giving them props post-set that this was actually their final set. The drummer and bassist are trying to do other stuff I guess. It's a shame because these guys played a SOLID set. I managed to get 2 full songs recorded to video so check those out:EZRA at the Dial 1; EZRA at The Dial 2
- Some shmammered blonde punk girl that seemed to be there with no one at all was wandering around like a lost vermin all night and at one point I saw her digging through the cigarette ash-bucket for butts.
- Apathean are always badass. They were a bit muddy this time but it was a fun time and some kid was straight up rolling on the floor, Dance Of Death-style during one of the breakdowns. I had never seen that in real life before. He won the "best mosher" contest and got the last kitty shirt.
- The next band was Globe And Beast, who I've heard of from various hardcore fliers in the last few years but had never really checked out before this show. They were cool but I made a mac n' cheese bowl right before so honestly I was kinda focused on that for the first few songs. Definitely the heaviest band of the night. Some dude was stomping around the pit in a fucking leg cast; Dope as that is, I'm pretty sure that's not what the doctor ordered. That casted bastard ended up throwing fists and hitting me squarely in the nose and there was blood. Sweet delicious blood.
- By the time The Coltranes went on we were all loopy. This was the first public performance with JJ Motherboy on guitar and Spenny Heath rock-starring around solely as a "vocalist." It was cool. We were all getting loose as shit, a real healthy fun mosh pit. I think I socked every single one of my friends who were there in the face during this set. Good times. They even played "Bland." I lost my voice screaming nonsense into the microphone at the very end of the set and busted open my pinky finger punching Evan's ride cymbal. I don't know why I love doing that so much I always end up cutting my finger.
- Fever Dreams was the last band I saw and although I REALLY liked their new full-length when I listened to it online, I just wasn't feeling it live. The vocalist in particular was just SO weak, it was like he had never screamed before. It was just grating. The music was okay but seemed way more chaotic (/sloppy?) than the album. I honestly was kind of let down. Then again I was also pretty tired. Fever Dreams should have played when Globe & Beast played so more locals would have stuck around.
- Seizures was still set to play next but as much as I love them (I rock their pin on my backpack erry day), I have seen Seizures like 5 times in the last few months and all my normal rides were mobbing out. I tend to get anxious when that happens.

Evan Coltrane gave me a ride home and I wrote this review.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

SHOW REVIEW: Cosmonauts/Hindu Pirates/Ruptures/Crisis Arm/Hash/Apathean @ The Dial, 2/8/13

Usually I start off my reviews with a little background of what I did before the show, but there's nothing particularly amusing or entertaining to say about the day prior to this one. It was a Friday at work and even though I only got one lead we were testing out new data so they had me stay til 6. I went home, ate some casserole and took some gravitys, got picked up by the Crisis kids, and went to The Dial. It was a rainy night and visibility was low but Kevin Crisis is a solid driver & got us there safely despite my constant babbling distractions.
It stopped raining by the time we got there but it was still cold as shit. Everybody wanted to stand outside and smoke cigarettes but that's not my bag plus like I said, cold as shit, so I just stood inside by the door being awkward as fuck. Pat Crisis and I tried to decipher some of the new graffiti on the walls, to no avail, while the various bands debated whether to bring in their equipment now or wait until between sets. I don't care about that discussion.
First band up was the homeboys from Riverside, Apathean. They take a long time to set up so it's sometimes good that they open up shows so as to not create a mid-show lag. Part of their set up includes bright blue lights and a makeshift candle-thing that smokes throughout the set. Apathean play a kind of churning alternative-metalcore that's clearly influenced by bands like the Dillinger Escape Plan and Burnt By The Sun. Many of their songs consist of pounding quasi-breakdowns and dissonant guitar noise, abrasive but always strongly rhythmic. They are very animated when they perform (again with the DEP-ness), thrashing around the space in front of them and kicking each other down and falling all over the place. Some kids (seriously, kids) started hardcore bashing at the beginning of the set which amply opened up space for the band peoples to abuse themselves as well as startling the hipster kids who were there for Cosmonauts. One of the coolest songs they played was a slow trudging build-up jam with low brooding Gregorian-type vocals like Nile would do on an interlude song. It eventually turned into a crashing jumble in the most badass of ways; Kevin later confirmed that that one was indeed semi-improvised but I think they should work on it and make it a full song cuz it was cool. They also debuted a new shirt with an image of an otter eating a starfish. 
There were alot of people there at The Dial for this one, alot of faces I had never seen before, and like every single one of them was clearly still in high school. I felt old as shit. In between sets I chatted with Travis from Rapid Youth/51D about that Christopher Dorner cop-killer maniac; this was before the whole cabin fire thing. Travis had made a post on Facebook before I got picked up about how despite all the media coverage on his lunacy and about guns and stuff, not a whole lot was being said about Dorner's apparent motivating factors; the police brutality and abuses of power that define the LAPD at this point. I related how I had been thinking about the same thing, how the first part of Dorner's manifesto and the changes he seemed to be pushing for, that all made total sense; he really lost me when he started talking about killing children and shit, though. He said that Dorner is like a black Rambo, we all had a good laugh, and he went to his car to get 51D tapes for me and Kevin. Cool stuff.
Next band up was Hash from Orange County. I've seen them before and they're cool. As the 2 bands were changing instruments, Ashtin Apathean pulled me over to validate his description of their sound, which was 'if "Electric Wizard" rode skateboards.' I guess I can hear that. Hash play a kind of stoner-core hybrid. If that makes sense to you than you probably already have a good idea what these guys sound like. Very riff-heavy in a mid-70s way, at times seemingly the mutant offspring of Black Sabbath and Tygers And Pan Tang. They meld from that into heavier parts and faster punk parts very appropriately, oftentimes just adjusting riffs from one tempo/style to the next without fundamentally changing the structure or the groove of the thing. I love when bands do that. They're kind of like a non-metallic version of The Sword without wanky solos; within the Southern California scene I'd go as far to say that Hash is the biggest stylistic competition that my boys in The Coltranes have right now. Punk without all the stupid fashion or fake attitude; vaguely 'core' but the breakdowns don't chugadun; heavily indebted to the Sabbath. The Coltranes are more immediate but Hash may be a tad more intricate.
As Crisis Arm set up their instruments I kinda just wandered around the warehouse, eventually getting into another conversation about that crazy Dorner dude with Eric from My Iron Lung. He was very interested in talking about it, everybody is tripping on this dude. (NOTE: Dorner is now dead but we're still all tripping.) We talked further about the 'miscarriages of justice' topic I had chatted with Travis about earlier. Eric was a bit more approving of Dorner's tactics than I am but we concluded that hopefully this whole fiasco leads to some kind of meanignful police reform. Who knows.
We could hear the band about ready to start playing so our conversation came to an end and I went to use the little gentleman's room right quick.
I have seen Crisis Arm like a million times, at practices and at shows, at various different venues, and I can definitely say this was the best I've ever seen them play. Maybe it's due to the fact that they can practice all the time now because they finally live together at their new jam-house, but many of the problems that had plagued them in the past (namely, one guitar overpowering the other and ruining the dynamics) seemed to be smoothed away. Also newly absent were the animal masks they had always worn. I think maybe after the Tittyfucker show they grew wary of gimmickry. Either way they sounded great. "Empire" is so depressingly dramatic; sometimes its like the guitars are howling in anguish, and I don't mean that in a bad way whatsoever.
The highlight for me was the final song of their set, a new one called "Late" that I had seen at practice once before and then they sent me a live demo that I became familiar with. Pat told me that this song is about child abuse, and it has got to be the most upbeat-sounding child abuse song ever written. My first impression of the song was that it sounded like Polaris, which is about as good of company as I can put a band. It's by far the poppiest, most accessible song in Crisis Arm's catalog, so much so that it almost seems out of character for them. After they finished I gave Pat a big high five because that shit was high-five material.
We were gonna go snack & smoke in the van while the next band set up, but these guys had their shit set up very quickly. Ruptures is a 4-piece hardcore band from Los Angeles. If I had to crudely distill their sound (which is all I really do in these reviews) I'd go with post-Verse hardcore. Maybe post-Deathwish but not as heavy. Haircut hardcore. Clearly rooted in modern, not old-school, hardcore, with emotive flourishes that don't quite delve into Touche Amore territory, some faster parts that aren't overtly punk. Their lead guitarist had some spiffy dance moves; he liked to twirl. He must have twirled at least 10 times. I can respect that. The drummer dude needed water and I let him waterfall from my bottle a few times. I contributed. They played a cool set, not too long, never started to drag. Their tunes don't reach out and shake me like an abusive babysitter or anything but I thought they were cool.
After Ruptures played we finally had a few moments to sit down and munch on some cookies and apples. It was still cold as shit but not so unbearable anymore; my socks had become damp, however. That was a bummer.
Hindu Pirates was the next band up and I won't hesitate to say that this was quite possible the absolute lamest band that has ever played at The Dial. It's not they were objectively a bad band; they were all adept at their instruments, their songs were fleshed out and everything. It was just lame as hell. They're the kind of arena-"indie" group that LA and OC have been puking out in fits for the last half decade. They wouldn't seem out of place on an old episode of "The OC" because it was exactly swill like this that Seth bastard thought was cool. Think of the Cold War Kids mixed with the worst parts of The Growlers and Vampire Weekend, with a half-rate Kings Of Leon wannabe on vocals. IT'S THAT BAD.
Every song they played was derivative mainstream shit in one way or another; the opening jam was a kind of throbbing buildup that sounded nearly exactly like "Champagne Supernova" by Oasis; halfway through the vocalist got up from his keyboard for a desperate, un-rock-n-roll "romp" that sounded like that fucking band Jet; even the 2 songs I kind of enjoyed, I only liked because they kind of reminded me of U2. It's bands like this that make uneasy to use the term "indie rock" sometimes. These motherfuckers played at the goddamn U.S. Open. So alternative.
By the time Cosmonauts were getting set up it was already pretty late, probably past midnight, and kids were getting tired. I remember waiting for the bathroom after the Apathean chaos and hearing one of the too-young-for-me girls lamenting, "I thought Cosmonauts were gonna play firrrrst!" I guess they got that impression because they're listed first on the flyer, but that's the universal symbol of being the headliner and just goes to show how lost this new generation of hipsters really is. Anyway I think alot of them kids were thinking the same thing because it seemed like alot of people were all the sudden back for the Burger band.
I say that because Cosmonauts have released music on Burger Records and embody the trademark sound of that extremely trendy label: catchy in a late-60s psych-surf-"Nuggets" way, but also kinda self-consciously trash-thrashy. When they record they have a bunch of unnecessary noise on the tracks, and kids eat that shit right up nowadays, but I thought seeing them live was a better representation of the songs. The catchiness is way more apparent, and the three-vocal vocal onslaught sounded clearer and more reminiscent of classic bands. On drums was Fletcher from The Garden, whose characteristic hyper-smiles and drumstick baton-tosses were on full display. It was a good show.
At first the hardcore children from the Apathean set were just moshing, which seemed funny to me because I just don't see this as moshing music. It's dancing music. Myself and a few other like-minded individuals began shimmying in a more natural style and before you knew it even the moshers were big dancing. Throughout the set Fletcher's twin brother and their lookalike dad (I think?) were being all sorts of wacky, wrestling each other and dancing like champions, starting push pits and general acting fools. Dope fools.
Overall, Cosmonauts were some good old-fashioned rocknroll fun hidden in the sheen of hipster punk and it was a real good time. I hadn't danced at an actual rock show for a good minute. It was fun.
After the show was over there were some intra-Dial issues to be dealt with an we cleaned up. We had a little convo between myself, Navis, the Crisis kids, and JJ about future projects and stuff but of course I had very little to contribute besides general support and/or shit-talk. I got driven home and went to bed. It was late.